City Passion
by a-dandyviXen
Summary: Remember episode 11 from the first season of the Big O? If it's a bit hazy, then I'll refresh your memory. So in Daemonseed we are introduced to a young saxophone player named Oliver who tries to make a living, and most important of all, tries hard to get a Heaven's Day gift for his girlfriend. In this fanfic, he and I share a friendship so strong that nothing could shake it.


**City Passion**

One day in San Francisco, my music history class and I began our outing. I felt city-ready with my purple tiger stripe sweater, black racerback tank, ripped blue jeans, and black and white converse. My hair was tied back in a loose, relaxed ponytail, and I happened to be wearing no arrived in the city early in the morning, so we ended up having a lot of time on our hands before the symphony started that then decided to walk around near the moist, grey, and foggy Embarcadero area and sightsee for awhile. After a bit of exploring, we stopped near a historic, early nineteen-hundreds apartment building to count heads and go over the trip agenda. I looked up at the window on the top left corner, and suddenly remembered that my very good friend Oliver resided there. He had moved there recently, and I was looking forward to seeing my best friend again. A long time ago, he moved away from the hometown we grew up in and went with his parents to Paradigm City, all the way on the east coast. It was just too far away, and I grew very depressed as I developed feelings for him. He moved there so he could find more job opportunities. Unfortunately he came up empty handed and ended up with a lousy-paying garbage dump gig. Things were steady until he got laid off one day. And his speck of a paycheck disappeared, and Oliver took matters into his own hands. He grabbed the money jar on top of the fridge at his old house and scooped out whatever money he saved up. He found that he gathered just enough to move across the country to a place where he felt he most belonged, so he packed up and left the city of Paradigm in a heartbeat. He felt sad at leaving his parents behind, but he wanted to be on his own, yet belong in a community that accepted him for who he was and what he did. His talents would definitely be appreciated at the city by the bay. Oliver was ectstatic to have found such a place, a home in San Francisco. Soon he was hired at a high-class hotel in South SF. The money he started to make there could not be compared to what he had made in Paradigm City, so he proudly traded in his clunky seventies Volvo station wagon for a suave dark red Volvo sedan. I turned my attention back to my group, and I impatiently waitied for my teacher to finish discussing with us what not to do in a city. When she had finished, I asked,

"Remember I mentioned that my older brother lived here?" I pointed to Oliver's window.

"Yes."

"Well, I was wondering if it would be alright if I go and visit him?"

Oliver wasn't my brother for real, but it was the alibi I used to go see him. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his head pop out from that same window. I knew that he saw me, and my heart dropped into my stomach. I prepared myself in a frenzy. It had been about seven years since we seen each other, so I expected to see some radical I relaxed, I saw him push through the front door, and my face flushed. He looked particularly handsome. His general outfit screamed hipster, and it came together with a lightweight light blue sweater, a black scarf draped loosely around his neck, blue denim skinny jeans, and a pair of stylish black boots. Even though the outfit changed, he did not have a complete makeover, as his wavy, shoulder-length red-brown hair, gold cross necklace, and newsboy hat remained the same. His face was unchanged, except for the look of a grown young man.

"H-hi, Oliver," I stuttered, smiling sheepishly. The hot flush grew hotter, and I put my head down.

"Hello, the name's Oliver," he greeted my teacher and the rest of the group before I could gain composure.

My teacher replied, "A pleasure to meet you. One of my students asked if they could see you today while we're here until the symphony starts tonight."

I pushed my emotions aside momentarily and joined my teacher and the saxophone player as they conversed for a minute.

"So you have your phone and everything you need for the day?" she asked me.

"Yeah. Thank you for letting me spend time with Oliver," I answered, my body tingling at the thought of spending that much time with him.

"Call if you need anything, and at about seven o'clock we'll be having dinner at Lori's near the hostel before the show. Okay?"

"Okay," I nodded, and when we all seperated, Oliver and I walked closely together and did our own sightseeing.

"I'm glad things came together nicely this time around," he said and smiled warmly. It was a smile that set me on fire and knocked me down.

"Me too," I replied while not being able to find any other words to say. Guess I could say the same. I was really not expecting to see my literally long-lost friend. But then soon we made some small talk. I said,

"Do you like San Francisco so far?" He replied almost so passionately that I was taken aback,

"This, is my true home. This city is filled to the brim with creative expression, and there really is no place I would rather be now." My heart warmed at his happiness, and I remembered why I became friends with him in the first place, all the way back in the third grade at grammar school. He never liked to do the things that all the other little boys did, like play "Cops and Robbers" and roll their Tonka trucks around. Oliver was quiet and liked to draw, read, write, and play saxophone. He was repeatedly scoffed at for it, but I was the one who stood by him through all the tough times, as well as the happy ones. We even shared the same interests, so we were definitely made for each other. Except that now my feelings for him bloomed, and from what I felt as we were walking, the same vibes were coming from him.

We went to lunch at a restaurant closer to the Bay Bridge, not to mention that it came with a spectacular view of it. Then we sat on a bench and simply gazed out at the two small islands in front of us, Treasure Island and Yerba Buena Island, as some low fog settled over the tops of the trees. A breeze buffeted our hair and clothes, and I noticed that I had no sweater with me.

"You cold?"  
"A little" I curled my arms around my body. Oliver removed his sweater and pulled it gently over my head without messing up my loose ponytail. I put my arms through, and found myself in sudden sinking ecstacy at the smell of his light cologne. I closed my eyes and sighed while any and all darkness was swept away from my mind. Calm but powerful clarity rushed in. Oliver turned to look at me and seemed amused at my revelation. I blushed and fell softly into his arms. He responded by wrapping them over my body in a reassuring embrace. I narrowed my eyes in sheer ecstacy, and caught a tiny blurred glimpse of his white t-shirt. I closed my eyes again, and felt the small in and out movements of his stomach as he breathed. We continued to sit in silence until the sky grew darker. It was already evening, and we made our way back to his apartment.

Night had fallen upon the city. Once we were inside, I hung Oliver's sweater up on the hook by the door. I looked around at the posh and tastefully decorated house. Beige and white color scheme, classic enough for his taste, yet modern enough to look new. The table in front of the black leather couch was oval and clear glass with a vase and flowers. Some home decor and sketching pads sat in a neat pile on top. A few house plants hung from the ceiling, but not too much to make it look like an indoor jungle. A flat screen TV hung from the wall across the couch, and a porcelain statue of a pegasus taking flight stood underneath. The carpet was the shag type, colored none other than beige. Cook books were stacked on the island of the spring green kitchen. The apartment was a breath of fresh air compared to the aged and drab appearance of the outside hallway. The guy had style. There was no denying it. I went and sat on the couch as he put the kettle on the stove for tea.

"Watch anything you want, you know!" he told me, then began tidying up. Soon he finished putting dishes in the dishwasher, and came to sit down beside me. A reality show played on TV, but he didn't seem to mind. I laughed and told him,

"Heh, you know, I told a little white lie..."

"What was it?"

"I told my teacher that you were my brother so I could see you." I smiled very big, feeling naughty and obviously excited for his reaction.

He chuckled and said, "That doesn't seem right."

I said "Nope!" happily, and I scooted closer to him. The sensuality of being with him replaced the light and joyous feeling of before. A sincere smile creeped onto his naturally gaunt face. I looked down and saw that his slender hand was reaching for mine. He held it up and then connected our hands together. Then they fell back down in between us, intertwined. Now, for the one thing he needed to know during our treasured time together...Just how long I had been yearning for his touch. Oliver brought his face close to mine, and our noses touched. He then gently coaxed me onto my back. When I was planted there, his necklace dangled above my chest as he took his position above me, kneeling between my knees, which were arched up. His elbows were down while his soft hands held my face. My breath caught in my throat, and the look on his face changed to one of love and intense admiration. As soon as I found the words, I whispered,

"Oliver...I've been waiting...for two years...for this."

The slender-bodied man leaned in closer and said,

"So have I."

I sighed. He asked one more time, "Is this okay with you?"

His caring and unselfish nature turned me on at that moment, as well as the closeness of his body. I murmured,

"Yes."

I watched his handsome face touch mine, and the world was a slight blur as our lips locked. As we kissed, he wrapped his arms around my upper back and the tingling sensation came back. I held the back of his neck, then the hair nearby. He lowered his body onto mine, and we were holding each other in a tight, passionate embrace. His touch seemed somewhat skilled, as I was about to lose control. I became more and more unsure of my composure as his hands slid down my waist and onto my lower back and my hips. I gasped, and he let out a small "Hm," of acknowledgement. He began to work back up my torso and wrap his hands around my breasts. I moaned at the touch to one of the most sensitive areas, and we gave each other one last kiss before we sat up to catch our breath. His breath was thick with lust, and I reached forward to run my fingers through his mane of russet-colored hair.

"Guess what?" he said.

"What?" I asked.

"You're going to the symphony tonight, right? Well, I have the same ticket for myself. Shall we both go?"

"Oh, yes. Please!" I exclaimed.

A little later, I waited for Oliver to dress up for the occasion. He came out in a dark blue sports coat with a vest, an undershirt, and a tie underneath. He wore matching slacks with black dress shoes. This time he wasn't wearing his trademark necklace or his hat. That night we were too busy for the tea, needless to say, so the abandoned kettle sat on the inactive burner. Then we went to my group's hostel and I dressed for the occasion with plenty of time beforehand. I wore a knee-length floral dress with a cropped leather jacket and black platform heels. My brown-and-blonde ombre hair flowed in luxurious waves, and my makeup was light; just some berry lip gloss, winged eyeliner, and purple eyeshadow. Oliver visited with my classmates until I was ready, and we left the hostel for the Davie's Symphony Hall. We all missed the bus on accident, so we walked, but the nighttime outing was just as enjoyable. San Francisco was lit up as bright as ever for that Friday night. Since Oliver and I needed to keep them thinking that we were siblings, we stood apart, but the urge to get closer and hold hands was just intense. When we settled down for the show, we were in seats that were more off to the corner and private, so we cuddled a bit as the vibration of the instruments down below filled our bodies. We finally held hands and leaned into each other for the rest of the night...

When the concert ended, we walked back to the hostel, but Oliver's house was on the way, and we kissed each other goodbye. Then I joined my class at the hostel, changed into my pajamas, and settled into the top bunk of a bed. Aside from all the talking, moving around, and bright lights, I became obsessed with how the day turned out. Nothing else mattered at that moment, until everyone got quieter and they turned off the lights for bed. A bit later, they were alseep, but I was not. I laid there with my arms folded behind my head, still tingling from his touch. As hard as it was to do, I forced myself to push it aside and think of the orchestra to lull me to sleep. And that's just what it did.

The next day we explored some more until the ferry to Larkspur came at one o'clock. Oliver joined us once again with another one of his stylish outfits: A t-shirt, his gold necklace, and gray-black jeans, and we checked out Chinatown and some more things we might have missed. Right before we went to the ferry building, we took pictures at the foot of the Trans America building. Then it was time to catch the ferry back home. Neither I nor Oliver looked forward to the goodbye. The ferry was loading up, and we relished our last hugs and kisses. I shed a tear, and he picked up on it.

"You know, you can always visit me whenever you like."

"But-but I live three hours away, and I'm always busy. I might not see you for a long time." My heart was tearing as I thought about not being able to see him very much. He held my hands and told me,

"Don't take it too hard now. At least I live a few hours away instead of a few days away."

A smile crept onto my face. He always had a way of cheering me up when I was at my lowest. And it never, ever failed once. We exchanged phone numbers, and saw that the ferry was fully loaded. I turned to leave. He grabbed my shoulder and said, "Wait."

I turned back around quickly.

"Take this."

He took his cross necklace off and placed it around my neck.

"Now you'll have a piece of me with you to help you along."

So we hugged for the last time, and I hurried onto the ferry as quickly as I could. As the boat paddled away slowly, I stood at the back and stared at my boyfriend's fading form as he waved. Then, just as the fog covered him completely, I thought about how the weather this time matched every situation, whether it be melancholy or romantic. I watched the dark shape turn and walk in the direction of his house. I took a breath and held the golden cross pendant in my hand. I started to value the very thing that was dear to him, and tightened my hand around it. It would always and forever be a momento of the time we spent together. That small, faded-gold cross necklace.


End file.
